The Longing in the Letters
by DaLiza
Summary: Set after the season seven finale. Booth and Brennan write letters to each other, even though they know they can't send them.
1. Chapter 1

Dear Bones,

If you could see me right now, you'd say I was being illogical. I can hear your voice so clearly in my head: _Why are you writing me a letter, Booth? You don't know where I am, so you can't possibly send it._

You're right, of course. As usual. But Sweets suggested that writing a letter to you, even though I can't send it, might help me deal with my "unexpressed feelings". Lately I've been dealing with them by going to the FBI gym every night after work. I spend a couple hours with the punching bag, imagining Pelant's face as the target of every punch. That usually makes me feel a little better, at least until I come home to our empty house.

It's quiet here. Too quiet. It's not right. You should be here beside me on the couch, talking about work or dinner or weekend plans. Christine should be upstairs in her crib, crying for food or a diaper change. But the only noise now is the television. (Since you've been gone, I need to have the tv on when I'm here; otherwise the quiet drives me crazy.)

There's a hockey game on. My favorite team is playing, so I should be excited. I should be cheering every goal and booing every bad call. I bet I would be if you and Christine were here. With you gone, I can't seem to care who wins or loses. Rather than flip through channels for twenty minutes only to realize that nothing interests me, like I did last night, I decided I'd try Sweets' letter writing idea. Don't tell him I'm taking his advice, okay? It'll be our secret.

Sweets said to write down everything I feel. So here it goes.

I miss you and Christine every minute of every day. It hurts so much, Bones. I thought I knew what pain was, having been shot and tortured and blown up more times than I want to remember. But none of that compares to the pain of missing my girls.

Forgive me, Bones. I know you're not a girl; you're a woman. The most wonderful woman I've ever met.

I miss the way you squint at bones and rattle off a bunch of squinty words. Your brilliant mind never ceases to amaze me.

I miss the way you smile at Christine and do that "dancing phalanges" thing with her. I know that when you were pregnant you were worried about being a good mom, but you didn't need to worry. You're so great with her. Every child should have a mom who loves them as much as you love our daughter.

I miss your touch. I miss feeling your lips on mine. I miss holding you in our bed at night after I've rocked your world.

_Rocked my world? _You'd say. _Oh, that must be another one of your euphemisms for sexual intercourse. Well, I rock your world, too_. You do, Bones. You always have. Right from the beginning.

It's getting late. I could try to go to sleep, but I hate sleeping alone in our bed. Not that I sleep much these days. How can I, when every hour I sleep is an hour I'm not helping to bring my family home?

_That's ridiculous, _you'd say. _You have to sleep, Booth. You're not going to help me and Christine when you're too sleep deprived to think properly._

I know, baby. But, believe me, it's better if I don't sleep a minute more than I have to, because when I do sleep I have nightmares about Pelant hurting you and our daughter. Or about Agent Flynn finding and arresting you.

Flynn won't listen to me about Pelant, but Agent Shaw and other agents who know you are helping me and your squints to find the evidence we need to exonerate you. We're going to get that sonofabitch, Bones. I promise you. It's taking longer than I hoped, but I won't give up until we prove he's a murdering bastard.

_He's not a bastard, Booth, _you'd say._ His parents were married when he was conceived._

I miss that too, the way you always contradict me.

I miss everything about you.

Okay. That's enough "expressing my feelings" for now. I'm going to get back to work so that you and Christine can come home. Give our baby a kiss for me, and tell her that Daddy is going to make everything alright again.

Yours forever,

Booth

XXXXXXXXXX

**Thanks for reading! All comments are greatly appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Booth,

I very much regret that I can't send you this letter now, as it might bring you some comfort to know that Christine and I have successfully met up with my father. Nevertheless, when it is safe for us to return home, I plan to give you this letter and other letters I will write, so that you'll have detailed accounts of my thoughts and activities during our time apart.

Before I describe recent events, I need you to know that I'm sorry I didn't tell you that I was planning to run. I don't enjoy keeping secrets from you, but I knew that if I told you I'd be making you an accomplice. I'm also very sorry that I've taken our daughter away from you. Although Dad assures me that it's in Christine's best interest to be far away from Pelant, I'm still saddened that I'm (temporarily) depriving our daughter of her excellent father.

I wonder if you're angry with me. If you are, I hope that someday you can forgive me. You once said that people who love each other are capable of great forgiveness. I know you love me. I may not say it as often as I should, but I love you too, Booth. Even before we became romantically involved, I considered you an essential part of my life. Being involuntarily separated from you has been heart crushing. No matter what I do, I'm constantly thinking of you and missing your presence.

I miss your charm smile. Your hand resting on my lower back. The funny faces you make to amuse our daughter. Your unusual socks and "cocky" belt buckle. Your ability to say the right thing at the right time to improve my mood. Your kindness. Your compassion. Your kisses. The way you hold me in our bed.

I've dreamed about you every night we've been apart. Last night I dreamed the media reported that Pelant was in prison, having been arrested for Ethan's murder. I put Christine and our belongings in the car and drove home as quickly as I could. When I opened our front door, carrying our sleeping daughter in her car seat, you wrapped your arms around me without hesitation. I placed Christine's car seat on the floor and embraced you in return. We held each other for what seemed to be a long time. You were rubbing my back and telling me repeatedly how much you loved me. I was crying into your chest because I was overjoyed that we were together again. Eventually, we put Christine to bed, then moved to our own bed, kissing passionately with every step. I'm sure you can predict what happened next. (Sexual intercourse. A lot of sexual intercourse. Or, to use the euphemism you often prefer, making love. Whichever label you use, it was extraordinary. As always.)

I'm confident that you and our squints are doing everything they can to make my dream a reality. I wish I were in the lab right now doing my part. Instead, Dad, Christine and I are "hiding out" in a small town in southeastern Massachusetts. We're staying in a bed and breakfast located approximately one kilometer from a private beach. (A kilometer is six tenths of a mile. Someday I'm going to teach you the metric system.) Under different circumstances, I'd consider it a pleasant place to visit. Perhaps, after I've been exonerated, the two of us and Christine can have a family vacation here.

Dad took Christine to the beach this morning. She's wearing that "Daddy's Little Angel" onesie you bought her and her pink sunhat. Meanwhile, I was confined to our room, doing what I could to alter my appearance. I cut my hair short (don't worry, it will grow back), then dyed it black. When Dad brought Christine back to our room, she didn't seem to recognize me at first! Dad says the changes to my hair are a good start. He's going to get me colored contact lenses or glasses to alter my appearance further. I've tried to convince myself that these changes are no different than the ones I underwent for our highly successful undercover operations. Except that now I'm attempting to evade capture by the same organization I used to assist.

Christine and Dad fell asleep shortly after dinner; both were exhausted by their day at the beach. Dad has a mild sunburn, but Christine is fine. (I made sure to apply a generous amount of sun block on all of her exposed skin before they left.) After they went to bed, I started reading an anthropology journal. (Knowing I'd get restless, Dad packed plenty of reading material for me.) Normally I would enjoy learning about my colleagues' latest endeavors, but tonight I couldn't focus on any of the articles. The topics covered were interesting enough; the problem was me. I couldn't read about my colleagues' work without thinking about my own, which only increased my longing to see you and Angela and Hodgins and Cam. Cam was mad at me for leaving to go to Maluku; is she mad at me now? Do all of our friends think I've abandoned them?

I turned on the television when I finished reading. While searching for a program that would distract me from my melancholy, I discovered a hockey game in which the Philadelphia Flyers were playing. I recalled that they're your favorite team. I imagined you sitting on our couch, watching the game and yelling at the television as if the players and officials could actually hear you. The image made me smile. After the game ended, I watched a few episodes of that fascinating documentary series about Guido culture.

I suppose I should conclude this letter and go to bed myself. I haven't gotten much sleep lately; I'm finding it difficult to sleep alone now that I'm accustomed to sharing a bed. When I do sleep, however, at least I know I'll dream of you.

Good night, Booth.

Love,

Your Bones

XXXXXXXXXX

**Thanks for reading! All comments are greatly appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Bones,

This morning I almost smashed our TV.

I had the news on while I was getting ready for work and a segment about you came on. This perky blond reporter talked about how "terribly shocking" it was that one of America's favorite crime novelists was on the run with her infant daughter. Then they showed interviews with people claiming to be your fans. Some said they couldn't believe you would kill someone. Others weren't so sure. "Of course she's a murderer," one guy said. "How else could she write about murders so convincingly?" What an idiot. I should have turned the TV off at that point, but curiosity kept me watching.

After the fan interviews was footage of a press conference held by Agent Flynn. Someone asked him: "Given that Dr. Brennan is in a personal relationship with an FBI agent, should the FBI be handling her case?"

Flynn laughed-the bastard actually laughed!-and said, "Dr. Brennan's relationship with Agent Booth is irrelevant, as he has been taken off the investigation. I can assure you that Dr. Brennan will be treated like any other criminal."

And that's when I almost ripped our TV off the wall and threw it to the floor. At the very last second, I was stopped by your voice in my head saying: _Calm down, Booth! Destroying the television would be irrational. You'd make a large mess (that you'd have to clean yourself) and then you'd need to buy a replacement. It wouldn't make you feel better, nor would it improve my situation. Don't let Flynn get to you. You're a better man and a better agent._

I backed away from the TV,but I was still furious. "Dr. Brennan will be treated like any other criminal"? You're NOT a criminal; you help put criminals behind bars! Stupid Flynn. If he wasn't FBI, I'd kick his ass.

By the time I arrived at the Hoover building I had managed to calm myself down somewhat, only to find that a swarm of reporters was waiting for me. They shouted my name like I was some celebrity on the red carpet. "Agent Booth! Agent Booth! Do you know where Dr. Brennan and your daughter are?"

I wanted to say: "Of course I don't know where they are! If I did, I'd be there with them!" Instead I clenched my fists, muttered "No comment", and forced my way past them.

It kills me that the press is damaging your reputation. I worry that all the good you've done over the years will be forgotten. When people hear your name, I want them to think "world famous forensic anthropologist" or "best-selling mystery writer", not "criminal" or "murderer."

A few hours after my run-in with the reporters, Rebecca called to tell me that Parker had gotten in trouble at school. Apparently one of his classmates asked him how he felt about his dad dating a murderer. Parker answered by hitting him. Not hard enough to do any serious damage, thankfully, but hard enough to get him sent to the principal's office. When the principal asked why he did it, Parker said that his dad had told him to stand up for other people, and so he needed to defend your honor.

I have to admit that I smiled when Rebecca told me that. But I know that I can't have my kid hitting anyone who insults you. I left work to talk to him.

"Why do people think Bones killed someone?" Parker asked me as we sat outside the principal's office.

"This bad guy Bones and I are trying to put away killed a friend of hers. Then he faked a bunch of evidence to make her look guilty," I said.

"Can't you prove it's fake?" He asked.

"We're trying," I said. "In the meantime, you might hear more of your classmates, or even people on TV, calling Bones a murderer, but only because they don't know her like we do. I don't want you to hit them. Just tell them they're wrong and walk away, alright?"

"Alright." He was quiet for a moment, then he said, "What if you can't prove the evidence is fake? Will Bones and Christine have to stay away forever?"

I almost lost it then and there, but pulled myself together. "Not a chance. Sooner or later I'll prove Bones is innocent so she and Christine can come home. And when that happens, we'll have a big party to celebrate."

"Can I come to your party?"

"It wouldn't be a party without you, buddy. Now, Bones will want to serve healthy foods like salad and tofu…"

"Yuck!"

"…but I'll convince her we should grill hamburgers and hot dogs. Or maybe order some pizzas. What do you think?"

"Pizza!" He said. No surprise there. Parker loves pizza the way you love bones.

"And what should we have for dessert?"

"Chocolate chip cookies…and brownies…and ice cream!" (So that's the menu for our party, Bones. You wouldn't want me to break a promise to my son, would you?)

"That sounds great." I gave him a hug. "I love you, Parker."

"Love you too, Dad."

We started walking down the hall to his classroom. After a minute or two, he turned to me and said, "If people on TV are saying that Bones is a murderer, why can't _you_ go on TV and tell the truth?"

I hugged him again and told him that was an awesome idea. My superiors won't be happy that I'm discussing a case, but so what? My family is more important.

I've already called your publicist. She said that all the media attention you're getting is dramatically increasing your book sales, so she's more than willing to book a TV appearance for me.

People need to know how amazing you are, and I'm going to tell them.

Loving you and missing you,

Booth

XXXXXXXXXX

**Thanks for reading! All comments are greatly appreciated.**


	4. Chapter 4

Dear Booth,

Today Christine rolled over for the first time.

I had put her on a blanket that I'd laid out on the floor of our room. She was lying on her back, looking up at me and smiling. (Even without teeth, her smile reminds me so much of yours, Booth.) I walked away from her for a moment to bring her some toys. When I returned, she was lying on her stomach! I asked Dad if he had moved her. He laughed and responded that she had rolled over by herself.

A few minutes later, I personally witnessed her rolling over a second time. She looked so pleased with herself, and I was equally proud of her developing motor skills. Yet my pride quickly gave way to guilt. If I hadn't taken Christine with me, you would have been able to see her developmental milestone for yourself. If Christine and I need to remain in hiding for an extended period of time, you might miss other milestones too. Her first solid foods. Her first steps. Her first words.

It upsets me greatly to think that you could miss the entirety of Christine's early childhood, especially considering that you missed so much of Parker's. I've always resented Rebecca for not allowing you to see your son more often, but now I'm the one who has taken your child away from you. At least you have the option of visiting Parker, whereas my decision to become a fugitive has made it impossible for you to visit Christine.

The third time Christine rolled over, I managed to record it on my phone. As soon as the recording ended, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with it. I also knew that I couldn't.

Dad must have noticed my conflicted expression. "Something wrong, honey?" He asked.

"I'm experiencing a very powerful urge to send this recording to Booth."

Dad's voice rose in panic. "You can't! The FBI has to be monitoring Booth's phone. If they get evidence that you're communicating with him, Booth could lose his job. He could even be arrested for aiding a fugitive. Do you want your daughter's father in jail with a bunch of guys he put there?"

I felt close to tears. "I don't want Booth to lose his job or his freedom. But he deserves to see his daughter roll over. He deserves to have proof that Christine and I are okay."

"You can show him the video _after_ he clears your name. Before then, it's too dangerous. For all of you."

I forced myself to put the phone down. "How did you do it, Dad? How did you stop yourself from communicating with me and Russ after you and Mom left?"

At that point, Dad too looked close to tears. "We had to keep reminding ourselves that talking to you would put your lives at risk. But it wasn't easy, honey. Not a day went by without your Mom and I wanting to call you, or write you a letter to explain what happened. Holidays and birthdays were especially hard."

"Mom made a video for me on my sixteenth birthday," I recalled.

Dad smiled. "She loved you very much, and she would have been very proud of the woman you've become."

I smiled back through tears that had started to slide down my cheeks. "You think so?"

"Absolutely. I knew your mother the same way you know Booth."

"I miss him all the time, Dad," I confessed. "I understood that leaving him behind would be difficult, but this experience has been much more painful than I anticipated."

Dad gave me a hug. "It will be over soon enough. Booth loves you too much to let you stay away for long."

"I love him too."

"I know. So when are you kids going to get married?"

"Marriage is an antiquated institution. It's based on the belief that women are property to be given away in order to benefit their families financially or politically."

Dad laughed. "I don't consider you 'property', and you marrying Booth wouldn't benefit _me_ financially or politically. Marriage today is about mutual love and respect, or at least it can be. The years I spent married to your mother were the best of my life. You and Booth love each other, live together, and have a child. Why not make it official?"

"I don't need a piece of paper to prove my commitment to Booth."

"Tempe, it sounds like you're giving me excuses you've used a dozen times before. I want you to think for a minute and tell me the _real_ reason why you're so opposed to marrying the man you love so much."

I did as Dad asked; I waited a full minute before answering. What I heard myself say surprised me. "I don't want to disappoint him."

"Disappoint him?"

"Booth has always wanted to get married; he has this idealized notion of what married life would be like. What if I can't be the wife he expects?"

Dad sighed. "You think that if you can't live up to these expectations, he'll leave you. Because people in your life, starting with your mother and me, have consistently left you."

"Yes."

"But Booth won't. I've seen how he looks at you, honey. He's in it for the long run. Are you?"

"I can't imagine being with anyone else."

"Then marry him. Let him commit to loving you for the rest of his life, and you do the same. If you keep on loving him the way you do now, I promise you he won't be disappointed. Far from it."

For hours after Dad and Christine went to bed, I stayed awake thinking about Dad's words. When I eventually succumbed to sleep, I dreamed about marrying you. We were in the same church where we baptized Christine. All of our friends and family were there, but my eyes were focused on you alone. You looked exceedingly handsome in your tuxedo, and you were smiling at me as I walked down the aisle towards you. As I reached you, you took my hands in yours and whispered that this was the happiest moment of your life.

I want to give you that happiness, Booth. Therefore, when Christine and I come home, I'll ask you to marry me.

Love,

Your Bones

XXXXXXXXXX

**Thanks for reading! All comments are greatly appreciated. **


	5. Chapter 5

Dear Bones,

I hope you and Christine saw me on _Good Morning America _today.

I know it's a long shot. You might not have a TV where you are. Even if you do, what are the odds you were watching it at seven in the morning? If you were awake, you were probably feeding Christine, eating your own breakfast, or deciding what you were going to wear. (It really doesn't matter what you wear, Bones; you look beautiful in anything.) So don't feel bad if you missed my interview. I can tell you all about it.

When your publicist called to tell me that _Good Morning America _was interested in interviewing me, she said that the show would put me up in a hotel in New York. I didn't want to take time off from work to travel, so I asked if I could do the interview from the Jeffersonian instead. They agreed. I had them set up the cameras in your office, with me sitting on your couch. I hope you don't mind that I used your office. It's exactly the way you left it because Cam won't let anyone touch anything. I like going in there from time to time because I can still feel your presence. I know you'd laugh at that, but it's true.

Anchor Robin Roberts started my interview by introducing me as an FBI special agent who'd worked with you for seven years and a military veteran who'd served our country with distinction. Her first question was: "Most people know Dr. Temperance Brennan only as the author of several best-selling novels. As someone who has worked closely with her for years, how would you describe the woman behind those books?"

I said: "She's brilliant-the most brilliant person I've ever met- and extremely dedicated to her work. And when I say 'her work', I don't mean her books. She thinks of writing as a hobby. Her work is her day job as a forensic anthropologist. She's one of the best in the world. She's also a loving mother to our daughter Christine. I thank God every day for giving me the chance to know her."

"Can you explain to our viewers what a forensic anthropologist does?"

"Dr. Brennan works with human remains that have been mutilated so badly that most people would vomit at the sight of them. But my partner doesn't vomit. She spends hour after hour, day after day, studying those remains until she finds out who that person was and how they died. She gives murder victims their identities back and helps put their killers behind bars."

"FBI Agent Flynn, your own colleague, said in a recent press conference that there's 'substantial evidence' to prove Dr. Brennan was responsible for the murder of mental patient Ethan Sawyer. Do you dispute Agent Flynn's claim?"

"Agent Flynn is a good agent, but he's being misled. My partner is being framed by an intelligent, manipulative serial killer, a man Dr. Brennan and I were on the verge of arresting."

"If that's the case, why would she decide to run? Wouldn't she trust the justice system to exonerate her?"

"Under normal circumstances, yes. But the man who framed my partner is as dangerous as he is intelligent. If Dr. Brennan had let herself be arrested, he could have easily arranged for her to be killed in jail. She had to run to save her life."

"You mentioned your daughter Christine earlier. Do you feel any anger towards Dr. Brennan for taking your baby on the run with her?"

I imagine you're wondering the same thing, Bones. "I'm not mad at her; I'm mad at the situation she's been put in. She hasn't done anything wrong, yet she's being persecuted like one of the hundreds of criminals she's helped the FBI capture. Meanwhile, the man who killed Ethan Sawyer and framed Dr. Brennan is free to walk the streets. Christine is safer on the run."

"Did Dr. Brennan tell you where she was planning to go?"

"No. She couldn't tell me any of her plans. Otherwise I'd be an accomplice. So she kept me in the dark to protect me."

"Has she tried to contact you?"

"I haven't heard from her since the day they left. I've been writing her letters to let her know how much I miss her and Christine, but I don't know where to send them." I hadn't meant to talk about these letters. Now Sweets will know I've taken his advice, and he'll be all smug the next time I see him.

"One more question, Agent Booth. If by any chance Dr. Brennan and Christine are watching you right now, what would you like to say to them?"

"I'd say: I love you both, now and always, and I won't give up until it's safe for you to come home." My voice almost cracked on that last word, but luckily I was able to stop myself from breaking down on national television.

"Thank you for your time, Agent Booth. I hope you're able to see your partner and daughter soon."

"Thank you for having me, Robin." And with that my interview was over.

As I left your office, I saw Angela coming out of hers. I knew she had just watched me on TV. "How did I do?" I asked her.

"You were wonderful," she said. "Your love for Brennan and Christine really came through, and I think people will respond to that."

"Thanks, Angela."

"I appreciate you defending her the way you did. The media has been so quick to assume she's guilty. Someone had to stand up and tell the truth. Now we only need to make people believe it." Angela started to cry. "We will find some way to prove her innocence, right? I can't just lose my best friend. I owe her so much. If it wasn't for Brennan, I wouldn't have a job here. I would never have met Hodgins, I wouldn't have Michael…"

I hope you don't mind that I gave Angela a hug. "We'll find a way. We always do."

"You're right." She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. "We've never let an evil psycho beat us before, and we're not going to start now."

"Exactly. We've solved seemingly impossible cases before. This time is no different."

"Except…"

"Except what?"

"Your bosses will be pissed that you said the FBI is persecuting an innocent woman."

"Yeah, they probably won't be throwing me a parade anytime soon."

"Are you going to get suspended…or fired?"

"Maybe. I bet I'll find out before the end of the day."

Sure enough, Assistant Director Hacker called me into his office a few hours later. He said that the FBI had received over 500 calls about your case, and the phones were still ringing. People were demanding that the "dangerous serial killer who had framed Dr. Brennan" be arrested immediately.

"You've caused quite a mess, Booth," Hacker said. "Flynn wants you fired, and he's got friends in high places. Your career could be over."

"I know, sir."

Hacker stared at me for a minute, as though he was waiting for me to say more. "I'd expect you to be more upset by this news. Isn't your job important to you?"

"Bones and Christine are more important." It's true. I could get another job if I had to, but I can't replace my family.

"You always have to be so noble. You're a good man, Booth…even though you lied to me when I asked if anything was going on between you and your partner. Your partner who is now the mother of your child."

"It wasn't technically a lie, sir. Bones and I weren't together when you asked."

"You were just partners then?"

"Yes." Now _that _was a lie. We've never been 'just partners', have we? There's always been something more between us.

"I should have known that you two would get together at some point. You were constantly giving her those longing looks, and she couldn't stop talking about you whenever we went out."

I tried not to smile.

"What you and Temperance have is special. It's not right that some computer genius serial killer is forcing you apart. You need to catch him, so I'm going to do what I can to help you keep your job."

"Thank you, sir."

"If you really want to show your gratitude, you and Temperance can name your next kid Andrew. Or Andrea if it's a girl."

"I don't know if Bones wants to have more kids." But if we are blessed with another child someday, we can't name him or her after a guy you used to date. Even if he is my boss. "I could ask her to name a character after you in her next book."

"I'd like that." He smiled. "Alright. You can go back to work now, Agent."

As I headed to the door, I heard Hacker call my name. I turned around. "Sir?"

"I can't officially condone you working this case, but I'm smart enough to know I can't stop you. Don't get yourself killed chasing this guy. I don't want the Bureau losing one of its best agents."

I promised him I'd be careful, and I meant it. I plan to be around to love you for a long, long time. Long enough to see Parker and Christine (and any other kids we might have) grow up and have kids of their own.

Someday we'll be telling our grandkids how Grandpa once cleared Grandma's name after she'd been falsely accused of murder. They'll think we're the coolest grandparents ever.

And we will be, Bones. No doubt about it.

Love you forever,

Booth

XXXXXXXXXX

**Thanks for reading! All comments are greatly appreciated.**


	6. Chapter 6

Dear Booth,

I saw your interview on television this morning.

I would have missed it if it hadn't been for my father. I had been sleeping, having a delightful dream involving you and a can of whipped cream, when I heard Dad calling my name and telling me to wake up. I wasn't ready to abandon the world of my dream and confront yet another day without you, so I told him to leave me alone. Then he said that you were on television. I instantly sat up in bed and saw your face on the screen.

I found myself doubting my senses. How could it be that the man I'd dreamed about only moments earlier was suddenly staring back at me from my own office? Once the initial shock passed, a wave of euphoria washed over me. I scooped Christine out of her bassinet and sat her on my lap. I planted kisses on the top of her head and told her to wake up because Daddy was on TV. She opened her eyes and looked at the television. She seemed confused for a few seconds, but then she smiled and extended her arm as if trying to touch your image. As illogical as it would be, I felt an urge to reach for the television myself, wanting to trace the outlines of your face.

I admit that I didn't hear anything you were saying at first because I was focused on your appearance. I noticed dark circles under your eyes, similar to the ones I see when I look in a mirror. You must be having difficulty sleeping too. I also noticed that you've lost weight, most likely because you're not eating as much as you used to. Neither am I. Without your company and conversation, I find that food isn't nearly as appetizing. It pained me to see you looking unwell, knowing that my absence was to blame.

The first thing I heard was your interviewer asking if you were angry that I'd taken Christine on the run with me. I've been wondering the same thing ever since I left. I couldn't have blamed you if you'd said yes; taking your child away from you was a terrible act. When I learned that you weren't mad at me, and that you understood why I couldn't tell you I was planning to become a fugitive, I felt tremendously relieved that my actions hadn't damaged our relationship.

I smiled when you said that you were writing letters to let me know how much you miss Christine and me. If only I could let you know that I'm writing letters as well! I look forward to exchanging letters with you when we are reunited.

When you said that you loved our daughter and me, now and always, and that you wouldn't give up until it was safe for us to come home, I could see that you were on the verge of crying. I desperately wanted to comfort you. Knowing I couldn't, I felt my own tears flowing freely and was powerless to stop them. I tried to tell your image that I loved you too, but I had temporarily lost the ability to produce sounds. Too soon your face disappeared, replaced by an advertisement for a vacuum cleaner. I have never felt such hatred towards an inanimate object. Dad put his arm around my shoulders and said that everything would be okay, although he has no way of knowing this is true.

I was starting to regain control of my emotions when the show returned from its commercial break with a segment on inexpensive gifts for Father's Day. My tears continued as I realized that Father's Day is this Sunday and, unless you can exonerate me in the next few days, you'll be spending it without your daughter. I'm so sorry, Booth. Hopefully Rebecca will let you spend time with Parker so you won't be alone.

Eventually I calmed myself down for Christine's sake. After feeding her and changing her clothes, I decided that I wanted to make one of the gifts mentioned on the show. I asked Dad if he would be willing to help and he agreed to go shopping for the necessary supplies.

Less than an hour later, he returned to our room with a black ink pad, a pack of pink construction paper, and a black 9x12 picture frame. We placed Christine's hands on the ink pad and pressed them down on the pink paper. We went through several pieces of paper before obtaining a satisfactory set of handprints. Above her handprints I wrote her full name and the date. Then we framed the paper. Dad said that you would love it. I hope he's correct.

I've told Dad that I'm planning to marry you. He was very excited and wanted to know if he could walk me down the aisle. I told him that I don't like the tradition of the father "giving away" his daughter to her new husband because it implies that a transfer of ownership is taking place. But then Dad looked crushed (metaphorically speaking), so I said I'd consider it. He suggested that I begin planning the wedding now, while I have so much "free time". I agreed that it was a more useful way to spend my time than watching television.

I imagine that we'll have the ceremony in your church. Angela can be my matron of honor, my nieces can be flower girls, and Parker can be the ring bearer. Afterwards we'll head to the Jeffersonian for the reception. Weather permitting, we can gather outside among the gardens. They're beautiful this time of year.

I've started making a potential guest list. This is who I have so far:

-Dad

-Russ, Amy, Emma and Hayley

-Hank

-Jared and Padme

-Parker

-Angela and Hodgins

-Cam and Michelle

-Sweets and Miss Wick

-The rest of my interns: Mr. Bray, Dr. Edison, Mr. Fisher, Mr. Vaziri, Mr. Abernathy

-Caroline Julian

-my cousin Margaret

-Dr. Gordon Gordon Wyatt

-Dr. Goodman

-Micah (You've never met him; he's the night watchman at the Jeffersonian.)

I'd like to add Zack to the list, although I don't know if his attendance will be possible. We should ask Caroline to "pull some strings" to get him a day pass. That could be her wedding gift to us.

In addition to the guest list, I've started making a list of places where we can spend our honeymoon. Paris is at the top of the list because Angela has repeatedly declared that it's the most romantic city in the world. Other locations on the list include Maui, Martinique, Jamaica, St. Lucia, Bora Bora, the Virgin Islands, Tahiti, Rome, Florence, Venice, and Santorini.

We can discuss the merits of each location, but ultimately it doesn't matter to me where we choose to go. As long as I can wake up next to you, I'll be happy anywhere.

Love,

Your Bones


	7. Chapter 7

Dear Bones,

It's been an interesting day.

When I drove to work this morning, I noticed a large group of people gathered outside the Hoover. I wondered if they were part of the "Occupy D.C." movement. But as I walked past them to enter the building, I saw that the signs they were holding didn't have anything to do with the "99 percent". Instead they said things like: "Justice for Temperance", "Brennanites Unite!" and "Bring Brennan Home". Someone in the crowd shouted my name and within seconds they were all chanting my name and applauding. I felt like a rock star. A guy in his early twenties who identified himself as your biggest fan (a title I think rightly belongs to me) handed me a bullhorn and asked me to address the crowd. I thanked them for believing in you and they gave me another round of applause.

Not long after I'd made my way to my office, I got a call from Rebecca. When I heard her voice, I worried that Parker had gotten in trouble at school again; maybe he'd hit another kid who called you a murderer. But he hadn't. She had called to say that I could have him on Father's Day because she didn't want me to have to spend it alone. I didn't even have to beg this time.

So I was in a really good mood this morning…until Flynn stormed into my office, complaining that my mob had called him a monster for forcing an innocent woman and baby into hiding.

I said that it wasn't _my_ mob; I hadn't told people to protest outside the Hoover.

Flynn argued that they were there because of my television interview. "You turned the public against me," he said. "I'm not in the business of persecuting innocent people, Booth. I'm only following the evidence, all of which points to Dr. Brennan. I can't ignore that evidence just because she was sleeping with an FBI agent and got herself knocked up with his bastard child…assuming that you really are the father."

I couldn't believe that someone I work with would say something like that about my family. I wanted to hurt him, Bones. I wanted to hurt him so badly. I imagined myself throwing him against the wall and punching his miserable face until he passed out. Then I realized that was exactly what Flynn hoped I would do. He had intentionally provoked me because he knew that if I attacked a fellow FBI agent, I'd lose my job for good. Not even Hacker would be able to help me.

I clenched my fists and told him to get the hell out of my office.

He smiled and said he was going to follow up on a reported sighting of you at a bed and breakfast in Massachusetts. If all went well, he could have you in handcuffs by dinner time.

I hope you're nowhere near Massachusetts. You're probably not; most of the people who call our tip line turn out to be wrong.

When Flynn left, I headed to the FBI shooting range. For the next half hour I fired bullet after bullet into the paper targets, pretending each one was either Pelant or the idiot who had just dared to insult the woman I love. After I had calmed down, I decided that it was time to do something I'd been putting off for far too long: I went to visit Zack in the loony bin.

He seemed to be doing alright, all things considered. I apologized for not visiting sooner. I also said I was sorry that he was there in the first place because it was partially my fault.

Zack looked confused. How was his situation my fault? He had chosen to join the "Master" on his own.

I explained it was my fault because before I came along, you and he spent a lot of time in the lab together. He did great work and you praised him for it. He thrived on that praise. After we became partners, you went out into the field with me more and more, so you weren't around to give him all the approval he craved. That was why, when Gormogon told him he needed an apprentice to help him take out "evil" members of secret societies, he jumped at the chance to become someone else's teacher's pet.

Zack said I shouldn't use psychology because it was a soft science. How many times have I heard the same words coming out of your mouth? You've come so far since the day I met you, but Zack hasn't changed at all.

I asked Zack if he knew what had happened to you. He did; Hodgins had told him during his last visit. Zack had offered to help exonerate you, but Hodgins turned him down because the last mental patient we brought in on this case ended up dead.

I told Zack that I didn't want to put him in danger, but I'm desperate to get my family back. If he was still willing to help, I could give him the code that Ethan left behind in his room. He agreed to take a look at it. I know you'd be devastated if anything happened to your former assistant, so I'll keep an eye on him until we have Pelant in custody.

I ended the day by talking to Parker on the phone. Since we're going to spend Father's Day together, I asked him what he wanted to do. I suggested we could play football in the park, see a movie, go to an arcade, or go bowling.

He decided he wanted to see The Avengers movie (it's about a bunch of superheroes who team up to save the world, kind of like you and your squints) and then go bowling. But first we had to go to church. Why does a kid who hates waking up early on weekends want to go to Sunday Mass? Because he thinks if he prays really hard, you and Christine will be able to come home soon. I pray the same thing every night.

Until we can be a family again, I have to believe that God is watching over both of you and keeping you safe.

Love you forever,

Booth

XXXXXXXXXX

**Thanks for reading! I've recently been diagnosed with shingles AND a bacterial infection, so any reviews will be especially appreciated.**


	8. Chapter 8

Dear Booth,

It's been a difficult day.

For the second morning in a row, I was woken up by my father because there was something on the news that he wanted me to see. I was once again reluctant to leave my slumber because I was dreaming about you (we were having intercourse in the back of your SUV). Furthermore, I had been awake until approximately three in the morning with our very unhappy daughter. Yet the thought that you might be on television again compelled me to open my eyes.

Unfortunately, I didn't see your face staring back at me. What I did see was a sizeable group of people assembled outside the Hoover building. My initial thought was that the FBI was being besieged; I worried about your safety. Then the reporter on the scene started interviewing members of the group (which seemed to be largely composed of "Brennanites"), and I understood that they had gathered to show their support of me. I admit I was flattered, but, if given the choice, I would have rather seen footage of you than a hundred strangers.

In another segment, a reporter announced that human bones thought to be over a hundred years old had been discovered in a local family's backyard. Forensic anthropologist Dr. Henry Parsons had been called in for a consultation. When I heard that, I experienced an unpleasant feeling I can only describe as jealousy. I've met Dr. Parsons; he's a good man, but only an adequate scientist. Why should he be allowed to practice his profession when I cannot? I could be using my skills right now to analyze those bones, or the bones of a recent murder victim. Instead, all my expertise is wasted as I remain idle day after day.

Feeling frustrated and useless, I turned off the television and began nursing Christine, who was still fussing much more than usual. I attempted everything I could think of to make her happy: I did "dancing phalanges", took out her favorite toys, made amusing faces, and sang some of the children's songs you taught me. Nothing seemed to work. Dad did what he could to try to calm her down, but he was also unsuccessful. I was pacing around the room, holding Christine against my chest, when we heard a knock on the door.

I looked through the peephole and saw one of the housekeepers, a young Hispanic woman named Gloria whom we had met a few days before. Her facial cues appeared to indicate that she was agitated. When I let her in, she said that Dad, Christine and I needed to leave right away. I thought that perhaps other guests had complained about Christine's crying, and I apologized that I was having difficulty soothing her, but Gloria cut me off. "I'm not telling you to leave because your baby's crying," she said. "You have to leave because the FBI knows that you're here."

I pretended that I didn't know what she was talking about. I was a law-abiding school teacher and single mother; why would the FBI be interested in me?

Gloria wasn't fooled by my cover story. She explained that she had recognized me because we'd met at a book signing in D.C. five years ago. (She claimed that I "very generously" autographed several books for her, but I have no memory of this.) Gloria hadn't told anyone I was here, but had just learned that she wasn't the only one who knew. While cleaning the lobby, she'd overheard one man boasting to another that he'd recognized me from pictures shown on television. He had called the FBI tip line in hopes of receiving a substantial cash reward.

I thanked Gloria for the information. She said she was happy to help her favorite author, and that she understood why I had run. "I'm a mother too," she said, showing me a photograph of an infant who appeared to be slightly older than Christine. "I wouldn't let anyone take me away from my baby."

Dad and I quickly packed up all our belongings. I left behind one hundred dollars in an envelope with Gloria's name on it. I'm not sure that sufficiently conveys my gratitude, so I think I'll name a character after her in my next novel.

We drove north for a few hours, eventually stopping at a motel on the outskirts of Boston. Christine cried for almost the entire drive and continued to do so once we settled into our room. Her forehead felt warm, but without a thermometer I couldn't confirm that she had a fever. I told Dad I had a strong suspicion (what I suppose you would call a "gut instinct") that something was seriously wrong with her. I wanted to take her to a doctor immediately.

Dad offered to buy Christine some baby aspirin, but said it would be too dangerous for me to go to a doctor's office. My face was all over the news; what if someone else recognized me and called the police? I argued that my freedom wasn't more important than our daughter's well being. Ultimately Dad agreed to bring her to a local walk-in clinic, but on the condition that I stayed behind in the room.

An hour passed. I worried about what Christine's diagnosis would be. How had she gotten so sick? Was it something I had done, or failed to do? I couldn't help thinking that this wouldn't have happened if I'd left Christine with you.

Three more hours passed. I feared that someone had figured out that Dad was helping me, and that he and Christine had been taken into police custody. Dad has been in jail before; he would be able to handle it. But what about Christine? Would she be brought back to you? Or would she be temporarily placed in foster care? Imagining our daughter in the hands of some of the foster parents I'd had (particularly the one who locked me in a car trunk for two days) made me severely nauseous.

When Dad and Christine finally returned, I was so relieved that I practically grabbed her out of Dad's arms. He said he was sorry they had been gone so long; the clinic had been extremely busy. He also said I had been right to insist that Christine go to a doctor because she had a fever of 102 and an ear infection. The doctor had prescribed amoxicillin.

After I gave her the first doses, Christine started to calm down at last. As I rocked her in my arms, I told her a story about her loving father and our team of squints. I said that you were having a breakthrough at that very moment, putting the pieces of the puzzle together to exonerate me and arrest Pelant. Soon we would leave this squalid motel and go home, where you would be waiting for us with open arms.

I had another "gut instinct" that my story might be true. I sincerely hope it is, because I don't know how much longer I can live the life of a fugitive.

I want my old life back: you, our friends, our home, our work. I want to be able to take our daughter to the doctor without the fear of being arrested. I want Christine to grow up with both of her parents in a stable home, not a series of motels.

When my parents left Russ and me, they started a new life for themselves. I refuse to consider starting a new life without you in it.

Love,

Your Bones

XXXXXXXXXX

**Thanks so much for all the reviews and well wishes. I've completed a course of antibiotics and am feeling much better.**


	9. Chapter 9

Dear Bones,

We did it. We got Pelant!

Here's how it went down. I got a message from Zack's mental hospital yesterday, saying that Zack wanted to see me. I figured that meant he had deciphered Ethan's code, which would give us the information we needed to bring you and Christine home. It turned out I was only half right.

When I went to see Zack, he told me that he had broken the code. The message your buddy licked on the walls read: "The sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from the sky, and the powers of the heavens will be shaken." Zack didn't know what it meant, but I realized that Ethan was quoting a Bible verse about the end of days. I was pissed that our most promising lead turned out to be useless. Why had I put so much faith in Ethan? He may have been a genius, but he was also a delusional schizophrenic who thought our beautiful baby girl was evil. If he had tried to hurt Christine, I would have killed him myself.

Zack apologized that he hadn't been more helpful. I told him it wasn't his fault; he had done what I asked him. "I shouldn't have gotten you involved in the first place," I said. "Pelant's already killed one genius working this case." As soon as the words left my mouth, I had an idea.

I filled out a form on the FBI's "highly secure" website, requesting agents to guard Zack's hospital because a patient there (I didn't give a name) was assisting an FBI investigation. I trusted that Pelant would be actively monitoring the FBI's internal correspondence, especially anything with my name on it. I hoped that he would read the form and do a search of the hospital's patients. Having read up on our case files, Pelant would recognize Zack's name and make the connection. Hopefully.

My plan worked. At about two o' clock this morning, Christopher "I'm too smart to get caught" Pelant managed to disable the security cameras in and around the hospital. He showed up in Zack's room with a homemade noose, apparently intending to make Zack's death look like a suicide. Except that Zack wasn't there; I'd had him transferred to another room.

Who was there, you ask? Me, Genny Shaw, and a few other agents you've met once or twice but probably don't remember. Within a couple seconds, Pelant had half a dozen guns pointed at him. I wish you could have seen his face, Bones. He looked both surprised and disgusted, as if he couldn't believe that I was the one who had tricked him.

"This isn't the end," he said as I handcuffed him. "I'll be free again in less than 24 hours."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," I said.

Pelant laughed. "You're no match for me, Booth. We both know Dr. Brennan is the brains of your operation. Without her, you're nothing."

"Nothing but an FBI agent determined to get his family back…and I will."

"You must be missing them so much," he said with mock sympathy. "All those lonely days followed by lonelier nights. No one to cook and clean for you. No one to comfort you after your nightmares. No little baby to hold. No baby mama to screw…"

He went on and on. Even though I was surrounded by my co-workers, I barely stopped myself from kicking his ass again. "At least I have a woman who loves me. Tell me, Pelant: when a jury finds you guilty of three murders and you spend the rest of your life in jail, who's going to visit you?"

"You can't prove I killed anyone."

"Keep telling yourself that and you might believe it. But you're not the first psycho killer to underestimate Brennan's squints."

When we brought Pelant back to the FBI, he refused to say another word, which was fine with me. In the end, we didn't need him to confess. With Zack's help, Angela finally confirmed her theory that Pelant was using library books to get his computer programs out into the world. One of those programs had allowed Pelant to fool his electronic tracking system on the days of the murders. A different one had let him alter the timestamp on the security camera in Ethan's hospital. Every library book gave us another piece of the puzzle… and another nail in Pelant's coffin.

While your squints did their thing, Pelant's comment about my nightmares was bugging me. Was it just a lucky guess, or did he know somehow that I was waking up night after night in a cold sweat? I had the FBI techs sweep our bedroom for surveillance equipment, and they discovered there was a camera hidden in our alarm clock! (It actually wasn't our alarm clock, but a very convincing copy.) When our guys took it apart, they recovered a partial fingerprint. Of course it proved to be a match for Pelant.

We showed all this new evidence to MaryAlice Montgomery, the DA who had replaced Caroline on the case. She agreed to file charges against Pelant and drop the murder charge against you. I thanked her over and over again. She said no thanks were necessary, but she would accept an autographed copy of one of your books. Your fans are everywhere, Bones!

Soon after Montgomery's decision, Hacker called me into his office. Flynn was already there when I arrived. Hacker told us that the FBI would be holding a press conference in an hour. Flynn would announce that you were no longer a suspect in Ethan Sawyer's death because Pelant had been arrested for his murder and the murders of Inger Johannsen and Ezra Krane. Hacker wanted me at the conference to assure you that it wasn't a trap.

I asked Hacker if you would be facing charges for fleeing an arrest warrant. He laughed. "Are you kidding, Booth? The Brennanites would storm the Hoover if we even thought about pressing charges."

Once we left Hacker's office, Flynn apologized to me. He really thought you had killed Ethan because he threatened our daughter. Now that the evidence proved otherwise, he was happy to have the real killer in custody. I told Flynn I understood he was trying to do his job, but I won't forget the things he said about my family anytime soon. Feel free to name a murder victim after him in your next book.

The press conference starts in ten minutes. I pray you'll see it on TV, or hear about it ASAP. When the conference is over, I'm going to hit the toy store and buy our baby a bunch of welcome home presents. And I'll get her some new clothes; hopefully she hasn't grown too much while you were away. Then I'll stock up on diapers and organic wipes.

I should go grocery shopping too. I'll be honest with you, Bones. Since you've been gone, I've been living on frozen dinners and take-out. But don't worry. When you come home, the fridge will be filled with fruits and vegetables and other healthy stuff.

After I get all your favorite foods, I want to buy you something special, something to show you that I still love you and always will. Not lingerie, although you did look very hot in that thing I got you. I'm thinking something classier, like jewelry. I'd love to buy you an engagement ring, but I won't go down that road until you're ready. Maybe I'll find you a nice necklace instead.

The press conference is starting now, so I should stop writing and pay attention. You're about to get your life back, Bones! I'm about to get my family back! I can't wait to have you and Christine in my arms again.

Yours forever,

Booth

XXXXXXXXXX

**Thanks again to all who have read and reviewed. Next up is an epilogue showing BB's reunion…assuming that you would be interested in such a thing.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Epilogue**

Smiling television reporters across the country delivered the breaking news: Beloved mystery author Temperance Brennan was no longer a suspect in the murder of Ethan Sawyer. The FBI now claimed that convicted computer hacker Christopher Pelant had killed him and two others. Within minutes, thousands of Brennanites were expressing their delight via Facebook and Twitter, on which "Justice for Brennan" quickly became a trending topic.

When Brennan herself heard the news, tears of relief ran down her face. She picked up Christine and held her tightly against her chest, kissing the top of her daughter's head again and again. "We're going home. We're going to see Daddy! You remember Daddy, don't you?" Brennan took a picture of Booth out of her wallet to show Christine.

Christine smiled at the picture and grabbed it out of her mother's hands. Then she stuffed it in her mouth.

"Don't eat Daddy!" Brennan laughed as she retrieved the picture, which was now covered with her daughter's saliva. She wiped it off and put it back in her wallet. "He's going to be very happy to see you."

"He'll be very happy to see you too," her father added.

"Yes. " Brennan felt more tears clouding her vision. "The feeling will be well reciprocated."

After thanking her father for everything he'd done, Brennan hastily packed up her belongings. As soon as the car was loaded and Christine was safely buckled into her car seat, Brennan began the long drive back to Washington D.C., back to the man she loved and the life she had reluctantly abandoned weeks before.

Several hours later, at a time when most people were sleeping peacefully in their beds, Brennan parked the car in her own driveway. In her eagerness to get home, she had exceeded the speed limit for almost the entire trip. Now that they had arrived, she wanted to unbuckle Christine and sprint to the front door, but a sudden jolt of fear kept her paralyzed in the driver's seat.

Booth had said in his television interview that he wasn't mad at her for choosing to go on the run. But what if he never trusted her again? What if they couldn't go back to the way things were? Would they have to live apart, sharing custody of their daughter? Would they need to give up their professional relationship as well? Moments after those questions started to torment her, she saw Booth running out of their house.

Booth had been keeping himself awake while using his sniper senses to listen for the sounds of an approaching car. He flung open her car door and immediately enveloped her in a hug. He wanted to say "I've missed you so much" and "I love you" and "Never leave again". Yet he couldn't say a word. He couldn't do anything but hold her. He felt her tears soaking his shirt and knew he was leaving a similar puddle on her coat.

Eventually a cry reminded them that they weren't alone. Booth's eyes turned to the back seat and a grin spread across his face.

"I'll get her," he said. Carefully unbuckling his daughter from her car seat, he picked her up and kissed her forehead. "Look at you! You've gotten so big! Daddy missed you so much. Let's go inside and you can see the new toys Daddy bought you."

Seeing Booth and Christine's reunion only added to Brennan's anguish. "How can you ever forgive me for taking her away from you?"

Booth's gaze returned to the woman he loved. "I've already forgiven you, Bones. You know I can never stay mad at you for long."

Hearing the sincerity in Booth's voice, Brennan finally got out of the car. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him deeply, just as she'd been doing in her dreams every night they'd been apart.

Booth returned the kiss for several blissful seconds before remembering that they were standing in the middle of their driveway. He forced himself to pull back. "Let's go inside." The last thing they needed right now was one of their neighbors spotting them and alerting the media.

As they entered their house hand in hand, Brennan took a few moments to reacquaint herself with her surroundings. The souvenirs from years of anthropological expeditions, the seats from Booth's baseball game, the ridiculously large TV he had insisted they buy, the pictures of herself and Booth holding their daughter-everything was exactly as she remembered. After weeks of staying in strange places, the familiarity was both comforting and refreshing.

She followed Booth upstairs to Christine's room and watched as he placed her in her crib. "Daddy got you some new stuffed animals." He held up a lion, monkey, and giraffe that had been sitting in one corner of the crib. Yet Christine seemed more interested in her mobile. "You remember your mobile? Your big brother Parker made that for you. He's going to be so excited that you're home."

Booth turned to Brennan. "On Father's Day, Parker insisted we go to church so he could pray that you and Christine would come home soon. He's a good kid."

"He has a good father," Brennan said.

Booth kissed Brennan's cheek. "Thanks, Bones."

Booth and Brennan watched Christine watch her mobile until her eyelids closed. When they were sure that she had truly fallen asleep, they went downstairs and settled themselves on their living room couch.

"I got you something too," Booth said, handing her a jewelry box he'd hidden behind a couch pillow.

Opening the box, Brennan discovered a silver necklace with two silver charms, a human skull and a handgun, lying side by side.

"The skull represents you," Booth explained. "And the gun represents me. They'll always be together on the necklace, just as we'll always be together." Booth cringed at his explanation; it had sounded better in his head. "Is that too cheesy?"

Brennan erased his doubts with a kiss. "Will you put it on me?" He gladly did as she asked. "It's beautiful. Thank you, Booth. I have gifts for you as well. They're in the car; I'll go get them."

"I can get them for you. You're probably tired from driving half the night."

That was true, but Brennan wasn't so tired that she couldn't walk out to the car. Nevertheless, she recognized that Booth wanted to take care of her, and so she decided to let him. "Alright. They're in my black suitcase."

When Booth returned with the suitcase a minute later, Brennan took out the framed paper on which she'd stamped their daughter's handprints. "This is Christine's Father's Day present." She studied his face as he looked at it. "Do you like it?"

"I love it, Bones. Thank you."

"You're welcome. These are from me." She handed him the pile of letters she had written during their separation.

Booth's eyes widened in surprise as he realized what she had given him. "You wrote me letters…I wrote you letters too!"

"I know," Brennan said with a smile. "I heard you mention them in your television interview. I've been looking forward to reading them."

Booth grinned. "I'd hoped you would see my interview. Do you want to exchange and read letters now?"

"Soon. First, there's something important I'd like to discuss with you." She took a deep breath to prepare herself. "Choosing to go on the run without you was a difficult decision. I knew I was going to miss you, but the longing I felt during our separation was much more than I'd anticipated. I was content to be alone for many years before I met you; I told myself that I didn't need a man to make me happy. Yet I realize that I do need _you_, Booth. You're an essential part of my happiness. I love you, and I think that we should get married." She waited several seconds for a response. "You're not saying anything."

"Sorry, Bones; I'm a little in shock. Can you say that last part one more time so I know I'm not hallucinating?"

"I want to marry you. I hope you want to marry me too, because I've already planned our wedding."

"Of course you have." He gave her a long, tender kiss. "Yes, I want to marry you. I've wanted to marry you for years. So tell me your plans for the wedding."

"I imagined that we would have the ceremony in your church-"

"You're willing to get married in my church?" Although Brennan had let him get Christine christened, he had never dared to hope that she would agree to a church wedding.

"I know how much you value your religious beliefs. I can ask Angela to be my matron of honor, my nieces to be flower girls, and Parker to be the ring bearer. After the ceremony, we can have the reception outside the Jeffersonian, among the gardens. What do you think?"

"I think it sounds perfect." He kissed her again. "Absolutely perfect."

The newly engaged partners wrapped their arms around each other, and before long both fell asleep on the couch. It was the best night's sleep either had had in weeks.

Booth took the following day off from work so he could spend it at home with Brennan and Christine. That night, after putting Christine to bed, Booth and Brennan read each other's letters as they lay underneath the covers of their own bed. They cried, held each other, and made love until sheer exhaustion forced them to stop.

Two days after their reunion, Booth and Brennan hosted the "Welcome Home" party that Booth had promised Parker, who was the first to give Brennan and Christine enthusiastic hugs when he arrived. Also in attendance were Brennan's squints and squinterns, Sweets, her father, Caroline Julian, and Booth's grandfather. When their guests had finished eating, Booth thanked them all for coming and declared that he had an announcement.

"The last time you said you had an announcement, it was that you two were expecting," Angela thought aloud. Her eyes widened. "Bren, are you pregnant?"

"No," Brennan said with a laugh. "One infant is enough for the time being."

"Please tell me you're not leaving the country again," said Cam anxiously, recalling how Brennan's trip to Maluku had nearly destroyed their team.

"Relax; we're not going anywhere," Booth answered.

"Are you getting married?" Asked Parker.

The partners exchanged a smile. "Yes," Booth said. "And you're all invited to the wedding." The room erupted in cheers and applause.

"I'm glad you finally listened to me," Pops told Booth.

Max shook Booth's hand. "I wouldn't trust anyone else to take care of my daughter."

"I knew this day was coming the first time I saw you making eyes at your 'just partner'," Caroline said. "Congratulations."

"Thanks, Caroline," Booth said. "You know, it would mean a lot to Bones if Zack could come to the wedding."

"Say no more, cher. I'll see what I can do."

Angela embraced Brennan. "I'm so happy for you, sweetie."

"Thanks, Ange. Would you be willing to be my matron of honor?"

"I'd be insulted if you asked anyone else."

"So…that's a yes?"

Angela laughed. "Most definitely."

"Congratulations, guys," said Hodgins.

"Thanks," said Booth. "You want to be my best man?"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Hodgins stood tall. "I'd be honored."

Booth turned to Parker. "Bones and I want you to be a part of the wedding too. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, would be to walk down the aisle with our rings."

Parker smiled. "So I'd be the ring bearer. Just like Frodo in Lord of the Rings!"

"Exactly," Booth said. "Except instead of throwing the rings into a volcano, you'd be keeping them safe."

"Cool. Mission accepted, Dad."

Smiling at the exchange between father and son, Angela raised her glass. "To Booth and Brennan! No matter what the world throws at you two, you always manage to get through it together. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness; you've earned it a thousand times over."

The other guests raised their glasses. "To Booth and Brennan!"

"To us," Booth said, turning to face the woman he'd love for the rest of his life.

"To us," Brennan repeated.

As their lips found each other, the room exploded once more.

THE END

XXXXXXXXXX

**A final thank you to all who have read and reviewed! I hope this epilogue has lived up to your expectations.**


End file.
